


I Know that Greatness Lies in You

by Multishipperlove



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blumentrio, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Corporal Punishment, Gen, Soltryce Academy, also I'm taking a lot of leeway here guys, blumenthal trio, graphic description of the crystal torture, if you squint it's poly trio but can be read either way, so I'm not sure if I should tag that, the blumenthal three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multishipperlove/pseuds/Multishipperlove
Summary: Bren Aldric Ermendrud had been groomed for success from a very young age. From the first time his parents send him to school to his last day with Trent Ikithon, expectations were high.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	I Know that Greatness Lies in You

**Author's Note:**

> More depressing Caleb fic, yay! I just suddenly had a lot of feelings about Caleb and his parents and Astrid and Eodwulf.  
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!!

_Bren was four._

He was four, and for a four-year-old, he already knew a lot. He could tell people his age, and his name, and where he lived. He knew all the letters, both in reading and writing, and could even count up to over one hundred. What he was especially proud of was the few words of Common he could speak, because his father always said that Common was the language of the Empire and it would do him more good than his mother tongue, Zemnian, one day.

More than anything though, Bren knew that his parents loved him. He saw it in the way his father smiled at him, when he usually smiled so little. In the way his mother tucked him in at night, and still insisted on reading him a bed story every night even though he could technically do that himself by now. He knew that they loved him because they said so, often, and that was already more than enough.

Sometimes though, when he wasn't in the room with them, he could hear them arguing with each other. It wasn't like a real fight, they weren't yelling, but still. Bren didn't like it.

Right now it was especially bad, because their voices had woken him up. But he was supposed to be asleep, which meant he couldn't go into the other room and make them stop. And they were slowly getting louder, loud enough that Bren could understand what they were saying, even though it was still muffled through the wall.

He could pick up his father's voice first, and he sounded agitated.

“I know you are worried, but I only want the best for him! We can barely keep him entertained in the house, do you want all that potential to go to waste?”

“No, of course not.” That worried voice belonged to his mother. “But he's four! Every other child in the class will be at least two years older than him, what if they are... what if they are mean to him?”

Bren knew what this was about now. Lately, his parents had been thinking about signing him up for school this summer. He wasn't exactly sure why that would be so much of a deal, and would have liked to go if they had asked him, but he didn't want to scare his mother.

She was already so worried about his father all the time, that he would be “called to the front again”. Bren wasn't sure what that meant, mostly because people refused to explain it to him, but it surely wasn't a good thing. It had something to do with his job and the bad limp he'd had ever since Bren could remember, but that was all he knew for sure.

Suddenly realizing that he'd lost track of the conversation in the other room, the boy concentrated on that again. His mother again.

“Where will we even get the money, Leofric?”

There was a short pause, and Bren was sure that his father sighed. He did that a lot.

“We could get most of that second hand. What about your friend, Sofine? Doesn't she have a son who's a few years older? I'm sure she still has some of the things that the boy has grown out of, and they would fit Bren just fine.”

“I could ask,” his mother agreed, carefully. “But even then, there's still the school fees to worry about.”

“We can take care of that. It's just the public school down the road, how much can they take?” his father answered again, and he sounded tired. Either the conversation was over after that, or Bren just couldn't hear them anymore. But discussions about money were always difficult, since they didn't have a lot of it. It was the reason his mother mended his clothes over and over instead of buying new things, and why he could never get a treat from one of the nice market booths when she took him along for running errands.

Bren closed his eyes again and buried his face in Frumpkin's fur, letting the gentle purring sound that came from the small body calm him down again (technically Frumpkin wasn't supposed to get into his bed. Technically). He was excited, because school sounded so much better than re-reading all the “child-friendly” books he was allowed to keep in his room, or being dropped off at his mother's friend's house when she had an appointment where he couldn't come along.

But he didn't want to get his hopes up either.

* * *

_Bren was ten._

He was ten, and had already changed school twice. From the small public school down the road to the one further into town, and now to a private one right in the centre of Blumenthal. It took him half an hour every morning to get there on foot, but it was worth it. So was the school uniform he had to wear everyday, and the heavier books he carried with him.

The new school also cost a lot of money, and the only thing keeping him from feeling too guilty was that, as long as he kept his grades up, there was an agreement for his parents to pay less. So he did what he could, kept his head down to avoid trouble with his classmates (always being the youngest in class wasn't easy), kept his grades up to avoid trouble with his teacher, and all in all just tried to draw as little negative attention to himself as he could.

Which was mainly the reason he'd almost suffered a heart attack when his teacher had handed him a letter to deliver to his parents the other week, with the strong instruction not to open it himself.

His father hadn't seemed angry though when reading it, just send him off to his room to do his homework. A week later he still wasn't sure what exactly the letter said, but now he was sitting in the headmaster's office with his parents with the vague answer of “it's about your education”. He really hated it when adults refused to tell him things.

Finally, the door to the office opened and the headmaster, Mr. Albrecht, stepped inside to join them. He gave the family a pleasant smile and both his parents got up to shake hands with the man. Bren wasn't offered the same, but hadn't expected it either.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ermendrud, Bren, so glad that all of you could make it,” the man started, before sitting down in the big chair behind the desk and shuffling some papers in front of him. They sat in silence for a moment while he studied what looked to be a file in front of him (Bren was sure that it was about him), and then looked up again. “Bren, how long have you been with us now?”

The question left Bren with a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he answered quickly. “Eight months and twenty six days, sir.”

Mr. Albrecht nodded, and Bren started to squirm in his seat again until his father's piercing gaze made him stop. “Exactly,” the man started, before focusing from Bren back on his parents. “And I have to admit, in that short time, Bren has already exceeded some of our expectations. When his old teacher contacted us with the plea of taking him in, we thought the woman was exaggerating his abilities. She was definitely not.”

Bren glowed with pride at those words. He knew he'd been doing well, but hearing it like this was something else. Sneaking a look at his parents he could see they seemed pleased as well, but his father also looked... worried?

“We are certainly happy to hear that,” he said, reaching out to lay one arm around Bren's shoulders. “But... what does that mean for him?”

“Well, not much, for now,” Mr. Albrecht answered. “We will continue to teach him, under the same conditions that have applied before. I'm sure that will be in everyone's interest for now. Right, Bren?”

Not sure if he was actually supposed to say anything to that, the boy nodded. When the teacher's eyes stayed on him, he quickly added: “I like it here. It's... nice. I'm learning a lot.”

“Your Common could certainly use some work considering your skill level in other classes, but we will get there,” the man chuckled, and even though Bren knew it had been meant in a not too serious way, the sound made him uncomfortable. Also, he could read and write in Common just fine, it was the speaking part that caused him trouble. He just couldn't make the words come out right, no matter how hard he tried at times, and even though he wasn't the only one in class with a heavy accent, he was the only one constantly being reprimanded for it. Definitely not one of his favorite subjects.

He turned his eyes to the ground, and Mr. Albrecht went back to his parents again. “Nevertheless, back to the topic at hand. I think it is obvious that Bren has the potential of a very bright future ahead of him, but if you want what's best for your son, you need to start making decisions now.”

“Decisions?” his father asked, still holding Bren close. “But he is only ten, what kind of decisions could be expected at that age?”

“Well, with the abilities he's showing already, he could one day be one of the greatest assets of the Empire,” the man told his father, and by now Bren didn't feel like he was part of the conversation anymore. “As a man of the military yourself, I'm sure you have an interest in not only helping your country, but also in seeing your son succeed in bringing this great nation forward.”

His father's expression turned pained for a moment. “Please, I am just a lowly scribe at this point, but-”

“Don't sell yourself short,” he was interrupted again. “I know about your commitment to the Empire, I know what it cost you. But again, let's get back on topic. Your son.”

“Right, right.” His father turned to look at Bren, then at his mother, who gave a brief nod. “Whatever you have in mind for the boy, we would greatly appreciate any help in furthering his education. He's a bright kid, and we- well, we cannot quite keep up. But we do want what's best for him.”

“Bright, definitely. Gifted, even,” Mr. Albrecht agreed. “Which is why I have a suggestion for you. I'm sure you know of the Soltryce Academy?”

There was another moment of silence, where his parents just stared at the man in front of them. Bren could barely keep himself from asking what they were talking about, knowing that they probably wouldn't appreciate his interruption.

“In Rexxentrum?” his mother finally asked. “Of course. Are you- are you suggesting that we send him there?”

“Not now, of course,” the headmaster told her, his tone reassuring. “But we can start working towards it. He certainly has the right mind for it, and I am certain that, under the right care and tutelage, your son would thrive.”

So whatever it was, the Academy seemed like a big deal. Bren did know about Rexxentrum though, they had covered the capital of the Empire in different subjects already. He'd never even left Blumenthal until now, going to another city so far away, and apparently by himself? It sounded scary.

His father was wringing his hands now, nervously looking between everyone else in the room. “That's- quite a ways away. And even if we had a few years to start saving up money, even with a deal like the one you have offered us, I don't think we would be able to do it.”

“Let me worry about the money, I'm sure I can call in a favor or two,” the headmaster offered with a smile. And Bren wasn't sure if he liked the look on the man's face. It wasn't a nice smile, he couldn't tell what it was at all. “All you have to do is make sure to keep your son in line, and make sure he keeps up with his studies. I will try and get more private lessons for him, since he is still ahead of the other students in his class.”

His parents nodded again, still exchanging glances with each other, but Mr. Albrecht was still talking. “And there are two others students I have my eye on, who, with a bit of luck, might get the same opportunity. He will share his lessons with them, and I will make sure to get them all acquainted with each other. And if everyone puts in a bit of work, we will see where it leads us.”

“All of that sounds quite amazing,” his mother replied quietly. “Almost too good to be true.”

“No worries Mrs. Ermendrud, the Empire takes care of their own,” she was assured. “And with your son's potential, it would be a shame to not at least try.”

* * *

_Bren was fifteen._

He was fifteen, it was a week before he, Astrid, and Eodwulf were supposed to leave for Rexxentrum, and he had just made a terrible mistake. Or rather more than one mistake, the entire night had been one mistake after the other if he was being honest.

A few hours ago Astrid and Wulf had shown up in front of his window with a mischievous smile and a bottle of ale each, asking him to join them in celebrating their acceptance to the Soltryce Academy. Their letters had already arrived weeks ago, but the closer they got to leaving, the more excited all of them became.

Bren hadn't even hesitated in climbing out and going with them. His parents would notice at some point, but he was sure they would understand. After all, he'd never caused any serious trouble before, never had the opportunity with the workload the school had been putting on him and the other two, so what better time time to enjoy himself a bit but now?

But really, he should have expected something to go wrong. And now, sitting in a holding cell as he slowly sobered up again, waiting for someone to pick him up, Bren really wished he could turn back time, just a little bit, and avoid this whole mess.

It was still dark outside, but he knew it was early morning when he heard keys turn in a lock down the hallway and two sets of footsteps approaching. Some kind of flickering light came closer, and finally two people stepped in front of his cell. First, the guard who had picked him up that night, holding a torch. And second was his father, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable look on his face. One thing was for sure though, he did not look happy.

For the first time in his life, Bren felt something akin to fear as he looked at the man.

“You got lucky, son,” the guard called out, as he moved to unlock the door. “If it wasn't for yer father busting you out, you'd be sitting here a bit longer.” The man seemed awfully cheery for their situation, but maybe this was the only part of his job he actually enjoyed. Delivering delinquent teenagers to their displeased parents.

Bren didn't move. “Dad, I-”

“Not now. Let's get you home,” his father interrupted, his voice unusually cold.

Bren held his father's gaze for a moment longer before finally getting up with a shaky exhale, and walking out. The man just nodded and gestured for the guard to lead the way out again. There was no hug, no pat on the shoulder, nothing. Hell, Bren had even preferred if he'd grabbed his arm, dragged him out by the ear, _something_. But they walked out in silence. Before leaving the building though, the guard held out his hand towards his father.

“Not a word about this. To anyone,” Leofric muttered, before dropping a small sack in the guard's hand that was clearly filled with coins. Now Bren knew why the guy was in such a good mood, at least.

With a last look at the man, who just gave him an unabashed grin, Bren quickly followed his father outside. The few attempts he made at conversation where still shot down though, and eventually he stopped trying. By the time they got home, the first sliver of light was visible at the horizon.

“Go to your room, Bren,” his father told him, locking the door behind them as always but not looking at him. Not once, since they had left the stockades. “Get some sleep. I need to talk to your mother, she was worried sick about you, and then I have to go to work. We will talk when I get back.”

The boy didn't have it in him to protest. He hadn't slept all night, his head was starting to hurt from the alcohol, and his father's behaviour was almost worse than any outcome he had expected. So he gave a brief nod and did as he'd been told.

Despite the rising sun and the noise of a city waking up outside, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

A few hours after noon, Bren finally woke up again. He still felt rather terrible, and not only because of the hangover he had, but at least the guilt got him moving. Sitting on the edge of his bed he spotted Frumpkin for the first time.

The cat was curled up on his desk, eyes open and the tail swishing from side to side as he gave him a look that could only be described as reproachful. “Oh shut it,” he muttered. “I don't need your judgement as well.”

Nevertheless he scratched the cat between the ears as he finally got up, getting a gentle purr in response, and it was enough to get him out the door and into the kitchen. If Frumpkin couldn't stay mad at him for long, surely neither would his parents.

“Mother?” he asked quietly, as he carefully opened the door and stepped inside. The woman stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, a smile washing over her face as she did. Before he could react, she was already up and had her arms around him. He was still an inch shorter than her, and his mother wasted no time in tucking him against her chest and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You're awake. When I checked your room again last night and you were gone... I was so worried,” she whispered, and he could still hear it in the way her voice shook. Once more he berated himself for being this stupid. If nothing else, he could have at least left them a note. “And then Eodwulf and Astrid showed up in the middle of the night and-”

“Wait, they did?” he finally pulled away from her again, with a confused look. “What- did they tell you what happened?”

“Some of it,” she told him. She still had both arms on his shoulders, but also looked a lot more serious now. “I'm sure they didn't tell us everything, but at least they let us know where we could find you. Eodwulf looked so scared, I thought you got hurt at first.”

“No, no I'm fine. I promise, mom, I'm fine,” he assured her quickly, though he was sure she knew that already. “I'm just... surprised they came here. Did they go with father?”

“No, he send them straight home. Pelor knows it's enough if one of you gets in trouble,” she sighed. “And then he went to get you. He probably told you, but your father is going to... have words with you, when he gets home from work.”

“I know,” he mumbled, averting his eyes now and looking to the ground. He had an idea what she really meant with that phrasing, and for once in his life had to admit that he deserved it. “Or I expected as much. I'm so sorry, mother, I didn't mean to worry you. Either of you.”

She reached out, laying a gentle hand on his face but forcing him to look at her again. “Bren, this isn't just about scaring us. Do you understand what you could have lost tonight?”

At his lost expression she just shook her head and let go again, taking a step back. “Well, nevermind. I think it's better if you have this conversation with your father. For now, why don't you help me with preparing dinner?”

“I- yes, of course,” he replied quietly. He had so many questions now, but his mother seemed very set on not answering any, and he knew there was no sense in trying to change her mind. The two of them did fall into an easy rhythm though, and before long, dinner was done and he could hear his father's key in the door.

For an hour, they all seemed to pretend that nothing had happened. They ate together, his parents even managed some small talk about work, and afterwards his father helped with washing up. But as soon as that was done, there was a noticeable shift in the mood.

“Bren, would you go wait for me in your room please?” his father asked, a forced easiness in his voice. “I think we finally need to discuss what happened last night.”

So Bren went to his room again, sat down on his bed, and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. And then he finally heard his father's footsteps approaching.

As the man stepped inside their eyes caught each other, and Bren quickly looked away in shame. He heard his father sigh, and a second later felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, look at me.”

Bren hesitated for another moment, but eventually lifted his head again.

“There we go. I don't like seeing you ashamed, doesn't suit you. But considering the circumstances we're in, at least you got a good reason to. Before we do this, tell me what happened.”

“Everything?”

“What do you think?”

Bren sighed, and had to remind himself once more to keep his father's gaze. “We... we just wanted to celebrate a bit, that's all.”

His father nodded and finally took a seat beside him on the bed, making it a lot easier for Bren to actually tell him the truth. Looming over him like he had been, it made him feel very small. “So you'd planned this for a while then?”

“No, not at all,” he told him. “They just showed up, and I thought what can go wrong? So I climbed out the window and joined them... they already had the ale, I'm not sure where they got it from, and we went to the old Schwarzwasser farm, knowing that no one would disturb us there.”

“Well that was obviously wrong, but continue.”

“Right. We, uh, got a little bit too drunk, I guess. And- and we started playing around with cantrips a bit, the one or two we can actually do.”

He could clearly see his father grit his teeth for a moment, before the man spoke up again. “You were playing around with magic, after your teacher has explicitly forbidden you from doing so? Several times even, if I recall correctly.”

“Well, I- I mean,” Bren was stumbling now, knowing very well there was no real way to talk himself out of this. During the last year, he and his friends had gotten access to actual spell books for the first time in their life. They'd only been allowed to copy spells, learn all the theoretical basics of magic casting, without any of the practical stuff. It had been interesting, but all three of them had quickly gotten the urge to try more.

“We did,” he finally answered with a sigh. “We knew we're not supposed to, but again, we didn't think anything could go wrong... it was just dancing lights at first, seeing who could send them out the furthest and things like that.”

“And then things started to go wrong?” his father asked.

“Pretty much. Wulf, he- I'm not sure what he was trying to do, but suddenly there was a loud noise, and some of the straw around us caught fire.” Bren stopped for a moment, as if he was realizing for the first time how much danger they'd actually been in. For drunken teenagers, they'd apparently gotten pretty lucky. “It wasn't really a big deal, we managed to put it out pretty quickly. But someone must have heard the noise and alerted the guards, because they came next.”

“And Astrid and Eodwulf were just faster than you?”

“Kind of. I told them to run ahead, and that I was going to catch up. I don't even remember what my plan was, probably something stupid, but before I could do anything they'd already caught me. And- well, that's what happened.”

His father nodded, staying quiet for a moment before he got up again and started pacing. “So let's see, breaking and entering, underage drinking, ignoring your teacher's warnings, and damage to property.” As he was talking, he was counting everything off on his fingers, and Bren gulped. “Do you want to add anything else to the list?”

“No.”

“That's what I thought.”

He stopped again, right in front of him, and motioned for him to get up. Ignoring the slight shaking in his knees, Bren did. Sure, he'd gone over his father's lap a few times, but that had been years ago. And this felt different.

But they weren't that far yet, his father kept talking. “Do you know what could have happened if I hadn't been able to pay off that guard? Do you have any idea what you put at risk last night?” he asked, his eyes growing more intense again. “You could have been charged for those things, Bren. They could have ended up on your record. Do you think the Soltryce Academy accepts students with anything less than a clean slate?”

And no, he hadn't thought about that. Not once had the thought that he could lose his scholarship, everything he'd worked for for the last five years, crossed his mind. The realisation hit him like a freight train, and all he could do was stare at his father with an open mouth.

“Yes, that's what I thought,” the man sighed, sounding deeply regretful of what came next. “I can't let you off the hook for this, Bren. You risked everything, it could have all gone down the drain, and you didn't even think about it. It's the last thing I expected from you, and I'm going to make sure you never forget again. Bend over your desk.”

Still too shell-shocked to do anything than what his father asked of him, Bren turned to his desk and leaned forward. As he rested his elbows on the steady surface, he could hear the sound of his father's belt being pulled through the loops. A moment later, a comforting hand came to rest on his back.

And then the sound of leather cutting through thin air.

* * *

_Bren was sixteen._

He was sixteen, and just finishing up his first year at the Soltryce Academy. Their last exams were in less than a month, and after that he would return to Blumenthal for a two month break along with Astrid and Wulf.

They were all looking forward to it. But while Bren missed his parents now, he also knew that he would miss the Academy as soon as he was back home. Even with the stress they were under sometimes, he loved the school. It was so much better, so much more, than what any of his other schools had been able to offer him.

Right now he was sitting in the main library with his two friends, all three of them poring over century old tomes while the sun was beating down outside. They were still covering the basics of magic in their courses, and still not allowed to do much more than cantrips, but every time Bren felt that specific feeling of magic flowing through his fingertips it was like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time.

Bren was still completely engrossed in his book as, surprisingly, Astrid was the first to throw down her pen. With a loud sigh she stretched her arms over her head and leaned back in her chair.

“Alright guys, I'm done for today,” she muttered, though she wasn't packing up yet. “Anyone want to join me outside? I think we deserve a break.”

“You're done?” Wulf chuckled, at least looking up from his reading. He was twirling his pen around his fingers, something he often did to help himself concentrate. “We're not even halfway through the material that's actually relevant for next week.”

“Bren is, he can tell us anything we need to know during lunch,” Astrid joked, while gently nudging him with her elbow. “Hey, Bren, what time is it anyway?”

“Eleven forty,” he muttered as an answer, his eyes never leaving the page.

“See? So we got lunch in 20 minutes anyway, let's take a break until then,” she insisted again, starting to collect her things now. The old leather bag she always took with her around campus was already straining at the seams, and the extra notes she'd taken just this morning weren't helping with keeping everything together.

Wulf still seemed unsure on whether to follow her or not, but finally started to pack up as well. “If I fail this, I'm going to blame you,” he muttered, though his voice was too soft to be serious about it.

“Oh trust me, if we fail this, I'm gonna jump off one of the candles,” she huffed, before clapping Bren on the shoulder to get him moving as well. “Come on, nerd.”

“Don't say something like that!” Wulf protested, just as Bren looked up and realized that they were leaving. Scrambling to catch up he stuffed everything in his bag, as careful as he could, and quickly followed his now bickering friends out onto campus. As they stepped from the the stuffy, dust filled library out into the sunlight, all three seemed to take a breath of relief, and their studies seemed forgotten for a few minutes as they started making their way towards one of the gardens.

Wulf and Astrid were still talking shit beside him when Bren suddenly got the feeling of being watched. He ignored it at first, but whatever it was made the hair on the back of his neck stand up until he finally turned his head to look around. Right by the door of the library, where they had just left, he saw one of their teachers. Master Trent Ikithon.

Bren straightened his posture as he caught the man's gaze, as if on instinct, and then quickly turned around again. He hadn't told the other two, and wasn't sure if they had noticed anything themselves, but he definitely felt like Master Ikithon had been watching them for a while now. It made him nervous, not being able to tell whether that was a good or a bad thing, or what the man was looking for. Maybe they should have just stayed in the library until lunch.

But he was quickly ripped from his thoughts again when Astrid slugged him in the shoulder. “Hey, Bren, are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, I mean, no... sorry. What were you saying?”

“Wulf wants to go sit by the pond, I think it's too warm. Let's sit by the willow, at least there's some shade there.”

“Uh, yeah. Willow sounds good,” he replied, giving Wulf an apologetic shrug as his friend glared at him over Astrid's shoulder. 'Sorry' he mouthed, just as Astrid grabbed both of them and dragged them over to one of her favorite spots.

As soon as the three of them sank down beneath the tree, all leaning against each other in a pile, he realised how exhausted he was. His friends didn't seem to be doing any better, and instead of going over his notes again as he'd been planning to do, he was content to doze off along with them.

For once there was nothing but peace and quiet, in the midday heat there wasn't even a single bird there to disturb them. It felt like forever until Astrid, who'd rested her head on his shoulder at some point while her legs rested in Wulf's lap, gently nudged his side again. “Hey, Bren?”

“Hmm?”

“What time is it?”

“Twelve sixteen.”

“Alright,” she mumbled, and then fell quiet again. After a second or two, she abruptly sat up. “Wait, what?! We're missing lunch!”

It took the boys a moment to catch on, but as soon as they realized what she was saying they all hurried to their feet, picked up their bags, and started running. Not that they were risking any serious trouble, but meal times at the Academy were strict enough that they didn't want to miss them, otherwise they would have to go into the city to still get something to eat. So missing lunch would, at the very least, be a waste of time and money.

They managed to get to the dining hall in time though, sweaty and a bit out of breath, but still able to sit down with everyone else and get their free meal. Trying to keep their laughter down they settled down at a table a bit further away from most of the other students, very aware that this must have been one of the more stupid reasons for being late to something. Still, better late to a meal than an actual lesson.

“Maybe we should plan in more time for a pre-lunch nap break tomorrow,” Wulf chuckled, as they had all finally calmed down a bit.

“Certainly not the worst way to end a study session,” Bren agreed with a smile, ignoring Astrid as she started to suggestively wiggle her eyebrows at them.

“Anything to get this dork out of the library for a few minutes a day,” she finally agreed, still sounding a bit too amused for Bren's taste. But before he could retaliate, he spotted another student coming their way.

He didn't recognize the girl, but she had an intense look on her face and was definitely headed for their table. She had to be at least a few grades above them, and despite the sweltering heat, was wearing the full uniform. Not even the sleeves of her coat were rolled up, which seemed weird in a room full of people who barely managed to keep their shirts on.

Bren nudged both of his friends and nodded in the girl's direction, causing them all to freeze up until she reached their table. She smiled, and came to a stop with her arms crossed behind her back.

“Astrid, Bren, Eodwulf?”

“Yes. Can we help you with anything?” Eodwulf asked, sounding honestly curious.

“Master Ikithon sends me. He would like to talk to the three of you, privately.”

So Bren hadn't imagined the whole thing. He felt a bit better now, knowing he'd been right, but that still didn't answer his question about this being a good thing or not.

“Right now?” Astrid asked, not aware of her friend's inner conflict.

“No, this evening. You're supposed to meet him in his office at eight o'clock prompt,” the girl answered. And this time she didn't wait for an answer, instead starting to walk off again immediately.

“Shit. Do you think we're in trouble?” Wulf asked, keeping his voice down now despite the fact that they were once more alone.

“I don't know, but I think Master Ikithon's been watching us for a while. Not sure what it means though,” Bren finally told them, his voice just a quiet.

Astrid gave him a confused look. “What do you mean 'watching us'? Why didn't you tell us sooner?”

Bren just shrugged and looked down on his plate, pushing his carrots around. “Wasn't sure if I'd imagined it, honestly.”

The other two didn't continue to press him, but the mood on their little table had shifted drastically. There was no more trace of their earlier joking around, instead all three quietly finished their meals and shared nervous looks with each other. Eight o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

They arrived at the office ten minutes early, just to be sure. And it wasn't like they would have been able to relax in their rooms anyway, even after their lessons and homework were done for the day. They had tried.

Wulf had been fidgeting more than usual since the “invitation”, barely able to keep still, while Bren had gone the complete opposite way and had barely said anything at all, sitting still as a statue through their last lessons. Astrid, just as nervous, had tried to keep the mood up, but soon realized it wasn't working. Eventually she'd given up and joined Bren in his silence.

Point eight, the door in front of them swung open by itself. It revealed a spacious room, every wall lined with bookshelves, a small laboratory set up in the corner, and right in the middle, a big desk. Trent Ikithon sat behind it, finishing up a last sentence with his feather before setting it down, looking up then to face them.

“Ah, you are all on time,” he greeted them, before getting up and beckoning their little group closer. Astrid was the first to step into the room, Bren and Wulf close behind as she walked up to the desk and sat down in one of the three chairs that had been placed there.

Astrid took the seat to the right, Wulf settled down to the left, and that left Bren right in the middle. He just hoped that his breathing alone wasn't enough to give away how tense he was.

“Now, I'm sure you are wondering why I called you in here. Did it come as a surprise to you?” the man asked, as they'd all finally sat down, and as he steepled his fingers in front of him. Bren wondered if it was mandatory for teachers to look absolutely terrifying as soon as they had you alone and up close.

“We- we certainly did not expect this, no,” he blurted out, when no one else seemed to answer either. “But we did notice your... attention on us, lately. Sir.”

Ikithon chuckled quietly and leaned back in his chair. “Perceptive, I like that. And it's true, I did keep an eye on the three of you for the last few weeks. With the talent your little group has displayed, since the moment you got here, it shouldn't be unexpected.”

He got up then, starting to pace behind his desk as he continued his speech. “I am not sure if you are aware, but all your teachers speak rather highly of you. You are moving through your lessons with a kind of ease that other students are not given, and while I'm sure that you still feel very much stressed with your workload, I assure you, others are doing worse.”

He stopped for a moment and gave them an amused little smile. “Most others in your year cannot afford to take a nap just before lunch, no matter how much they may want to.”

Bren's face heated up at those words, and he was sure his skin was about as red as his hair. He hadn't been aware they were being watched that closely.

“I'm very sorry, Sir. We never meant to give the impression that we were slacking off,” Astrid spoke up quietly, and while she wasn't blushing, Bren could tell she was as embarrassed as he was.

“Oh, not at all,” Ikithon assured her quickly. “What I am trying to say is, you are wasting your time at the moment. All three of you could be much further than doing measly cantrips right now, and that's why you are here. I'm going to make you an offer, one that isn't going to be easy. Quite the opposite, your life is going to become a lot harder if you accept it. Free time will most likely become a distant memory, but I promise you, it will be worth it.”

They all resisted the urge to look at each other again. “What kind of offer?” Bren finally asked.

“I will personally take over most of your tutoring,” he told them, still looming over them as he now rested his hands on the table and looked down at them. “To get you to an acceptable level you would need to loose some of your summer break, maybe return one or two weeks earlier than everyone else so we can work on a schedule that works with the rest of your studies. But I will not only make sure that you are able to learn in a pace that actually suits your abilities, you will be able to work closely with me on furthering, and pushing, our current understanding of magic. You will get access to areas of the Academy that most students are forbidden from ever entering.”

Bren felt that sinking pit in his stomach again. The one he'd felt when his headmaster, years ago, had first suggested the Soltryce Academy to him. The same feeling he'd had every time his father told him he was meant to for greater things. The feeling that meant he wasn't quite ready, but also knowing he would never be. That a plunge into cold water was sometimes the only thing that got you swimming.

“Bright minds like yours are exactly what the Empire needs these days,” Ikithon continued. “But I do not expect an answer right away. Take your exams, go home to your families. All I expect is a letter during the first two weeks of your break, so we can make sure everything can still be arranged should you agree. Any more questions?”

There was a long beat of silence, as it seemed the three teenagers dared to breath for the first time since the man had started talking. They all looked a bit insecure at the moment, Wulf visibly struggling to keep still, but finally shook their heads.

“Very well, consider yourselves dismissed then. Enjoy your evening,” they were told, just as the door opened again behind them.

* * *

_Bren was seventeen._

He was seventeen, and after the last year and a half under Master Trent Ikithon's care, he was finally starting to understand his place in the world. His skill level had advanced remarkably, not only concerning spells but also certain interrogation techniques. Astrid and Wulf were doing just as well, and together, the three of them were looking at a future of bringing the Empire further than it had ever been, of revolutionizing it's understanding of what was possible within magical means.

It was everything Ikithon had promised them, and so much more. Three days a week they would leave the Academy, instead going to their Master's private estate to receive further tutelage there. And some of these days, the secrets they seeked to learn demanded sacrifice.

Today was one of them.

Bren had been called in for a solitary lesson, knowing very well that this was somewhat punishment for his lack of concentration during their last training mission. Though he already reprimanded himself for that thought. It wasn't supposed to be a punishment, he needed to get better and if this was what it took, so be it. Ikithon wanted his best, he couldn't question that.

Reaching the door to the basement he gave a rapid knock, and promptly heard it unlock beneath his fingers. Pushing it open and getting a first look at the room, he barely suppressed a groan. On a small table beside a chair were a few instruments laid out, amongst them a scalpel, some gauze, and the green crystals he was so familiar with by now.

Ikithon was there as well, greeting him with a warm smile as the door fell shut behind him. “On time as always. Take off your coat and sit down, we can begin any minute now.”

“Yes sir,” Bren replied, his voice still steady as he relaxed from the frigid pose he'd been holding with his arms crossed behind his back, to take off the red coat of his Academy uniform. He carefully folded it over and left it on the chest near the door, before striding over to sit down. Not wanting to waste any time he already rolled up his sleeves as well.

Ikithon stepped closer again, placing down a bottle of rubbing alcohol before preparing a cotton swab with it.

“Take a deep breath now, Bren. Concentrate,” he told him, his tone harder now than what the smile earlier had prepared him for. Bren closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dug his fingernails into the arm of the chair, as the first cut was placed.

The first few times, Ikithon had made sure to tie their arms to the chair first. By now, they were expected to stay in position on their own. Handling rope only wasted time.

He couldn't see it, but even over the static noise in his ears he could hear one of the crystals being picked up. A moment later, the telltale feeling of his skin catching fire, electrified, the feeling that was usually so soothing to him, left him feeling in control, dialled up to a hundred.

He grit his teeth, but still groaned in pain as a second crystal was added. And another. And another, into the other arm this time. As they reached number five, Ikithon finally stepped away. Bren could feel the tears running down his cheeks, already finding the plain close to unbearable, but he wasn't granted much of a break.

“Open your eyes, son. Get up,” Ikithon told him, still demanding. “We are going to start with a few level one spells, see how you manage.”

So Bren opened his eyes, blinking a few times against the bright torch lights, and stumbled to his feet. He always felt like his view shifted with the crystals. Everything seemed sharper, brighter, almost pulsating. The trembling had given way to a dull thrum running throughout his body, leaving him so tense that even the gentle hand leading him into the middle of the room felt like a branding iron pressed deep into his skin.

They had never gone up to five before, he wasn't sure how long he would be able to take it. But he did his best to assume an upright posture, waiting of further instructions. As Master Ikithon had already told him, they went through some of the easier spells first.

Bren was able to go through them without much trouble. Disguise self, burning hands, silent image. Ikithon just needed to call them out, and he followed without even having to think about the actions he was performing.

But with every arcane word, every somatic component, the pain started to get worse. The crystals helped to preserve energy. If it wasn't for the pain, Bren would have been able to keep at it until night fall.

But as it was, his body started to scream for a break after less than ten minutes. He was heaving for breath, gritting his teeth again so his grunts of pain wouldn't disturb the spells.

“Please,” he whispered, not daring to look over at Master Ikithon but still asking for mercy. “I-it's too much, please.”

“Stop whining, Ermendrud,” was all he got in reply. “You're better than this, let your will override your body and show me that all this time I'm putting into you is actually worth something. Let's step it up a bit, show me... a phantom steed.”

Bren swallowed another cry of pain and assumed the proper position again. But as he raised his left arm for the right gesture, a pain so blinding shot through, from his fingertips right to his head, that all he could do was fall to his knees with a loud scream. “Please,” he started to beg, hiding his left arm under his body like a beaten dog while the other cradled his head, still nothing but white light behind his eyelids. “Please, take them out! Pelor, please, make it stop.”

“Pathetic,” he heard above him, just before he was forcefully turned on his back and Ikithon grabbed his arm. “I expected better from you, Bren.”

One after the other, the crystals were plucked out again. It left him sobbing on the floor, every stimulation still kicked into overdrive, and even as the other man retreated and he could hear the crystals clatter down on the table again, he stayed down.

“Well. That was a bit disappointing, but I guess we will have to work our way up again,” Ikithon sighed, and Bren could hear him start to clean up as he slowly started to quiet down again. “I will send someone down to... help you wash up. And don't worry, in a few months, you will all get the chance to really prove yourselves.”

Bren didn't know what that meant, and right then he didn't really care. All he wanted was for the pain to finally stop, for his senses to return back to normal, and to hopefully not see these crystals again anytime soon.

Ikithon's footsteps retreated, he heard the door shut behind him, and then he was left in the dark. Safe enough to open his eyes again. Safe enough to get his breathing back to normal.

It took exactly four minutes and thirty three seconds before he heard a new set of footsteps. Two, actually, hurrying down the stairs, pushing open the door. Coming to a stop.

“Bren?”

It was Wulf. The soft gasp behind him was Astrid.

“I'm okay,” he whispered, his voice more hoarse than he would have expected. With Wulf's help he slowly sat up, though he still winced at the gentle touch. Astrid kneeled down beside him, a fresh roll of gauze in her hands.

“Are you sure? It looks bad,” Wulf whispered, tucking Bren against his chest as Astrid got to work. “That's a lot of cuts.”

“No, no I'm fine,” Bren told them again, curling his fingers into Wulf's coat with the arm his other friend wasn't currently tending to. “I got you two, I'll be fine. I'll be fine.”

* * *

_Bren was seventeen._

He was seventeen, and he lost everything in a fire of his own making.

* * *

_Caleb is twenty eight._

He is twenty eight, and his life begins anew.


End file.
